Coffee Run
by DragonWolfStar
Summary: The day started out so well too... COMPLETE


A/N: ...I've got no explanation for this...

* * *

Neal smiled, winking at the pretty new cashier behind the counter as he picked up the paper tray of coffee. Marissa blushed and smiled back, mouthing "call me" as he headed toward the entrance. Her number was on his receipt.

Grinning roguishly over his shoulder at her as he walked Neal didn't notice the door swinging open until he heard the tinkling of its bell. Unfortunately, the glass swung into him about the same time, sending his (and the team's) coffee tumbling out of his hands and all over his freshly pressed suit.

"Ah…" he groaned, flicking steaming brown droplets off his fingers. At least he wasn't wearing the Devore.

"Oh, shoot. I am so, so sorry," a voice apologized, words tumbling out at a faster-than-normal pace. "Uh… I can pay for that."

Neal glanced at the speaker, taking in mid-length brown hair and warm eyes. If he had to guess, the kid wasn't too much younger than he was, but he still had a nervous college student appearance. His sweater-vest (who wore those?) was wet from the coffee, as was the thick book he was carrying.

He smirked. "I doubt you can replace my suit, but thanks anyway."

That got him an embarrassed flush. "I meant the coffee…" he all but squeaked.

"Oh! Well, in that case, you already have."

Smiling brightly at the kid's confused look as Neal spun around to face the counter once more, he added conversationally, "You know, with two people and a glass door, you'd think one of us would have seen this coming."

That only made him blush harder.

Marissa looked amused as he paid for another tray, handing over four more cups of freshly brewed coffee.

Turning around, new drinks in hand, Neal tossed the kid his wallet and whistled on his way out. He fingered the extra forty he'd liberated from the kid's wallet. There wasn't enough time to go home and change, but there _was_ a small clothing outlet next door…

* * *

Morgan watched curiously as Reid walked through the door of the local LED – notably without any of the team's coffee. He looked bemused.

"What's up, Pretty Boy? Where's the coffee?"

"Uh, well, I think I just let someone pick-pocket me…"

Morgan raised an eyebrow while Emily, JJ, Hotch, and Rossi traded glances. "Say that again?"

* * *

Peter stared as Neal strode into the office wearing a casual tee and sweats. Looking somewhat ridiculous, his fedora was still perched on his head. "You know we have a dress code, right?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know – Neal had only been on a coffee run.

"Why yes, Peter, I do."

The agent nodded slowly and took his cup, breathing in the delicious aroma only to realize the majority of it was coming from the con artist.

"Spilled?"

"Yep."

Peter shook his head, waving at a stack of files. "Fine. I'll let it pass – but only for today, got it?"

Neal grinned, leaning back his chair and propping his feet up on the conference table, still clad in Italian leather.

They managed to work quietly for about a half-hour before they heard a mild commotion down in the bullpen. Predictably, Neal dropped his mortgage fraud cases like hot coal and stood to see what it was.

"Huh…"

Catching the slight sound of surprise, Peter shot his consultant a sharp glance before getting out of his seat. His office; whoever it was would be coming to talk to him anyway.

"Agent Burke? I'm SSA Derek Morgan and this is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. We're sorry for dropping in unannounced, but we think our Unsub has connections to some cases handled here a few years ago. We were hoping to take a look at some of your files…"

At his side, Neal choked.

"Um, sorry about earlier."

Peter glanced at Dr. Reid, noting his slightly sheepish expression. Agent Morgan stopped mid-word.

"Don't worry about it; thanks for replacing the coffee," the consultant said, taking it in stride.

Reid smiled. "And the clothes, I presume?"

Neal laughed just a touch nervously. "Ah, yeah. And the clothes… so… doctor, huh?"

"Neal, what did you do?" Peter interrupted.

"Oh, hey, you wanted the files on… James Ackerman, right? I'll just go get those for you," Neal deflected, all but running out the door."

Agent Morgan frowned at his partner. "Was that the guy that pick-pocketed you this morning?"

Peter froze. "He did _what_?"


End file.
